


This isn’t 'usually'

by dontkeepmehere



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 19:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontkeepmehere/pseuds/dontkeepmehere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Q comes onto Bond before disappearing and leaving the agent with nothing but an address, a time and a whole tonne of unresolved-sexual-tension there is only one way it could end. PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This isn’t 'usually'

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [vernetq](http://vernetq.tumblr.com) who requested a fic where Q goes out of his way to seduce Bond. This is way off prompt but Q is quite demanding so hopefully you like it all the same.

Bond hates the waiting. He’s been sitting in his office for most of the morning and it is starting to get supremely annoying. This is his fourth day of office time since he returned from the Michigan mission. He completed his paper work in the first day and a half. 

He has nothing to do. Not even research or planning for future missions which usually occupies him through his down periods. Mallory, M, says he’ll be deployed soon enough. He had done well in Michigan but he still had to wait. Bond’s not sure he can take anymore waiting. 

Bond opens a new window on his computer and begins a game of solitaire. 

_Ace of clubs, Ace of spades, move the king to the now empty space._

An alert pops up in the corner of the screen. There’s a basic Instant Messenger system built into every MI6 issued phone and computer now. It’s secure and fast, the perfect way to summon agents if they’re needed quickly or to check something and get an instant answer. Q’s rather proud of it but aside from using it to causally flirt with and annoy Moneypenny Bond’s never had much use for it. 

Bond clicks the alert to get it to go away before returning to his game of solitaire. 

_Seven of clubs to eight of diamonds. Six of diamonds to the seven.  Furthest space opens up and Bond flicks through the cards in the deck to find one to play._

Another alert and James clicks it and reads the messages. They’re both from Q. 

**Bored are we Bond?**

**Move the two of spades.**

_Two of spades onto the Ace._

And now another one appears.

**Well Done.**

James taps out a quick reply, asking how Q is able to both see exactly what James is doing on his computer and not feel even slightly guilty about it. 

**I’m a genius...so the how is largely academic since it was not especially hard to do and there is no way you would understand how I managed it. In answer to your second question who says this isn’t one of my guilty pleasures?**

Bond sends his reply quickly: **You’re not the sort to feel guilty about this.**

The response: **No you’re right. I don’t feel guilty for this. My guilty pleasures involve you though.**

Bond recognises the statement as bait, it’s clearly an invitation for a more flirtatious conversation, to get to know more about Q aside from his calculated arrogance and overwhelming intelligence. 

He takes the bait: **How so?**

**They’re more guilty thoughts than guilty pleasures... You, naked and flushed below me. I’d make you scream as I sucked you off, you’d beg.**

James types a reply: **I never beg.**

**You will beg for me. I know you will because I am just that good. I will have you wrapped around my little finger within minutes.**

**Or maybe I’ll make you wait. I’d love to run my tongue along the curve of your back before I flip you over and lavish attention on your cock.**

James is hard beneath his desk. It’s embarrassing really because he ought to have slightly more restraint. Still, he loves dirty talk and the idea of Q taking him and making him beg make James want make these thoughts into reality. Then he wants to flip Q onto his back and take him hard and rough and fast as punishment for making him wait. 

Instead he asks if the messages are monitored. He’s not going to be the subject one of Q-branches little jokes. Q replies with two messages in quick succession.

**Yes. By me. I will delete the logs.**

**I have to leave now, 007.**

James doesn’t have time to feel disappointed because another message appears almost instantly. 

**1900\. 7C Mitchell Square. SW3 9FT. If you want to make those guilty thoughts into a reality.**

James has time to commit the address and time to memory before Q logs off and the chat log disappears completely from the system. James turns his computer off almost immediately afterwards and gets up to leave the office and head over to the gym for a while. He’s no longer aroused but he needs to work off some energy and keep himself occupied if he’s not going to march down to Q-branch and demand that the Quartermaster explains himself. 

* * *

At ten to seven Bond rings up to Q’s flat and waits impatiently to be buzzed in. He knows he is ten minutes early but he’s been waiting all afternoon. Bond is not a patient man.

“Hello?” Q’s voice sounded tinny coming from the box on the brick wall. 

“Let me in,” Bond instructs, completely cool and collected. He’s not going to go simpering to Q just because the Quartermaster has decided to call the shots this morning. James has ground to recover. 

“Bond. Is - is that you?” Q asks and James smirks slightly when he registers the tone of surprise in the boy’s voice. 

“Let me in.” 

There’s silence on the end of the line. Bond considers ordering Q to let him in again, he can tell the boy’s having second thoughts and James doesn’t want Q doubting himself. This is something he wanted. James wouldn’t make advances towards Q unless he were certain that they would be reciprocated; now he know the feeling’s very much mutual he wants them to stop thinking and start fucking.

James’ next comment is cut off by the buzz of the door being opened for him. Q’s made his decision.

James takes the stairs because he doesn’t think he can stand to wait for the lift. When he reaches Q’s door, the man appears to have the entire third floor to himself, James pauses for the briefest moment. 

He doesn’t need to knock. Q opens the door and stands there looking at James. He’s silhouetted in the door frame. He’s clearly had an important meeting today because he’s not wearing one of his stylish cardigans or comfortable jumpers. Instead Q’s wearing tight black trousers, a white oxford shirt and a thin black tie that has been pulled slightly away to let Q undo his top button. James wants him so badly.

“Q.” 

“Bond.”

“We’re going to do this.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

James stalks forward once he has received the Q’s explicit consent. He is tired of waiting. With a slight shove he forces the boy inside of his flat and kicks the door closed behind him. However, Bond’s momentary dominance is derailed when Q’s pushing him backwards against the door and pressing his lips to James’ as he lets out a low and dangerous whisper. “Now Bond, you’re not going to push me around that easily.”

“James.” The man then attaches himself to the boy’s neck pulling at the open collar to expose more of Q’s pale and shaven skin. The pressure isn’t enough to leave a mark, James is just warming up. So, apparently, is Q because the boy seems determined not to be out done; he squirms under Bond’s mouth for a few moments, enjoying the hot, slick pressure there before he pulls at James’s collar and leads him over to the sofa. He pushes the man down and then straddles him. 

“James, I may prefer to be on my back but do not think for a moment that I am going to be a pushover.”

“I came for what you promised.”

“Then I ought to deliver.” Q sunk slowly to his knees and pulled roughly at the backs of James’ knees so that the man’s slouching on the sofa in a position which whilst not uncomfortable for Bond was ideal for Q as he bobbed his head towards James’ tented trousers. 

He smirks up a Bond as he reaches his hands towards the mans trouser and slowly pulls down on the zip. He then focusses on the task at hand and doesn’t look at James as he pulls the trousers open and down slightly. 

“I can see why you love your suits. Such a obvious symbol: respect, control, superiority. Such a simple way to make us drop to our knees and beg for you.” 

James’ cock is fully exposed, his briefs and trousers are pushed slightly away but he’s other wise fully clothed. Q licks slowly from the base to the tip, across the slit and down again. He’s not trying to get James off, not yet. He’s just having a little fun. He’s just warming up. 

“Keep talking.” 

Q does. He continues talk and tease Bond as he does so. “I don’t beg. I don’t need too because I’m going to get exactly what I want without even asking. I’m going to get it by making you feel -” a pause, Q suckles at the head, James groans, “- _fantastic._ ”

“You seem -” another sound of satisfaction because Q has _finally_ sunk down and taken James’ dick into his mouth. “- confident.” 

Q just hums as he pulls back and then sinks down slightly further on James’ cock. The boy seems to be trying to prove something as he hums, sucks, pulls back and sinks down again. James become vaguely aware that the boys trying to take the entire length down his throat and smiles. He prefers the cock-worship from before or a proper facefuck but this is still incredibly enjoyable and it is clear that Q’s very skilled in the area. 

James moves his hands to rest in Q’s hair which whilst messy was hitherto reasonably well styled. He pushes his fingers into the black curls and pulls slightly so that Q sinks down further. He does it again and the boy gags around the mouthful, pulling back and letting the saliva drop from his lips towards Bond’s trousers. Q gives Bond a look.

_Fuck._ Bond knew better than to push too far, particularly so early in the game. He removes his hands from Q’s hair and rests them on the boy’s shoulders. 

Q smirks and silently moves James’ hands back to his head and sinks down again enjoying the guiding pressure James’ exerts on his head. 

James wants to say something dirty, something filthy. He doesn’t because although he’s almost certain that Q wouldn’t mind, would probably enjoy it, it doesn’t feel right. He wants to tell Q that he looks like such a beautiful little slut, kneeling there and sucking him off when they’re both still clothed. He’s such a talented whore, James appreciates the effort that Q’s clearly put into learning how to give the perfect blow job. Q finds the sensitive spot between the head and shaft then sucks at it until James jerks forwards and  presses insistently at the back of Q’s head  and James knows a lot of time has gone into honing Q’s cock-sucking skills.

That or the boy’s a bloody quick learner. 

“You’re really not going to beg are you, James?” There’s something about the way his names sounds when Q says it that makes James’ dick twitch. The visual of the boy kneeling between his legs with the tip of James’ cock still held in front of his red lips is something to behold as well. 

“Is that what this about?”

“No. This is about me getting what I want. I want you. I’m tempted to make you come right here -” Q says as he begins to pump James’ cock slowly “-I’m sure you’d love the sight of your Quartermaster on the floor, face splattered in cum.”

“You’d make a brilliant cumshot, you tart.”

Q lets out a dark throaty chuckle and presses a hot open mouth kiss to the top of James’ cock. “There, I knew you could talk dirty if you tried. Why so quiet?”

“I’m usually quiet.”

Q hums and thinks before replying “True. But this isn’t 'usually'.” 

“Pushy little slut aren’t you?”

“I’ve told you this is about me getting what I want,” Q runs his finger idly up and down James’ dick before he looks up and smiles. “Luckily, what I want is you. Specifically your cock in my arse.” 

Q stands slowly, it seems that he’s reluctant to leave the floor between James’ thighs. Q pulls at the loosen knot of his tie and slips it over his head. James is happy to watch the boy undress watching each inch of skin as it is tantalizingly revealed. Q clearly doesn’t want to give James a show because before he has undone half of the buttons on his shirt he’s walking away and gesturing for Bond to follow him. 

They end up in Q’s bedroom. Q’s seated on the bed pulling off his socks and shoes carefully and Bond quickly follows toeing off his shoes and yanking his socks off so that he stumbles somewhat inelegantly in his haste to get naked. Q shifts to lie down at the bed and watches Bond with an amused smirk. 

“Who would have thought the great 007 would be so clumsy.”

“Usually someone else undresses me.”   

Q doesn’t say anything but opens his legs suggestively. Bond takes the hint and moves to kneel between Q’s open legs. Both men still have their trousers on, Q’s completely nude otherwise but Bond’s shirt is hanging open on his shoulders.

“Maybe I should help with that.”

Q pushes the shirt from James’ shoulders, scrunches it up and tosses it carelessly across his bedroom. Bond grunts and pulls off Q’s trousers and boxers simultaneously in a smooth movement that were  clearly the result of some careful study. 

Q thrusts his hand out towards the bed side table searches clumsily for the lube. Alarm clock, no, glasses case, no, book, no. His hand knock against everything on his cluttered table but he _can not_ find the lube. James seems to be slightly amused as he flicks Q’s sensitive nipples and then pinches them between his teeth. Q shifts to sit up and look at his table properly.

“Where the fuck is the fucking lube?”

James laughs. Actually _fucking_ laughs. 

“I mean it. Where is the fucking lube?”

“You knocked it to floor,” James leans down carefully and fishes the bottle up and hands it to Q.  

“I don’t know why you’re giving this to me. You’re the one who’s going to using it.”

“No, I’m going to watch.” James can see that Q needs a little more encouragement so he pulls the boy’s ankles apart and sits back on his haunches to survey him. “I’m going to  sit here and watch you finger you tight little hole open for me, like a good little bitch, before I fuck you, hard.” 

Q’s suddenly incredibly eager to comply. He coats the fingers of this right hand liberally in lube before he slips them down and circles them slowly around the rim. 

Q clearly know what he likes. He works slowly, drawing out the process because he enjoys it. James enjoys the show even though it’s clear the boy’s actions are designed primarily for Q’s pleasure. There is something about the way Q’s spine bends upwards when he brushes just so, or in way in which Q gasps and rolls his eyes backwards in pleasure when he pushes the third finger in. Perhaps the most wonderful part of the entire scene is the way in which the boy mewls in pleasure whenever James offers encouragement and calls him ‘ _such a good boy.’_

“Are you ready?” 

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“Condom?”

“In the drawer.”

James doesn’t need anymore encouragement. He stands and pulls off his trousers before moving back onto the bed and settling between Q’s thighs. He’s tempted to tease the boy a little more, to ask if he’s _sure_ that he’s ready. Then Bond thinks better of it. Q was right, James was going to give the boy everything he wanted, he wouldn’t even have to ask. He grabs a condom, rolls it on, pushes in, rolling his hips and sinking further down until he’s completely buried inside Q. 

Finally. Q was right, it felt fucking fantastic. 

Everything is forgotten now as they set an unsteady rhythm of skin slapping against skin and short breaths. 

It’s over too fucking quickly. Of course it fucking is.

Q comes first. Bond starts fisting him rapidly when he senses his own climax building. He’ll be damned if he’s coming first. Instead Bond thrusts into the over-sensitive Q until he comes shortly after before collapsing onto of the wiry man. 

They lie like that for an interminable length of time.

* * *

“Move you shit, you’re heavy.”

James rolls off. “Usually I don’t get called a shit after sex.”

“This isn’t usually James,” Q replies as he rolls over to face Bond. 

“Shut up, you twink.”

“Bond? Did you just call me a _twink_? Do you even _know_ what a twink is?”

“Yes,” James replies, not bothering to look back at the Quartermaster. 

“The term ‘twink’ is, in fact, an acronym the stands for Teenage, White, Into No Kinks. I twenty-fucking-eight and whilst I don’t deny the fact that I am incredibly pale I am not a twink. Plus, I am _very_ kinky, you dick.”

“Prove it.”

“Later.”


End file.
